


Close Call

by CricketScribbles



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Drama, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CricketScribbles/pseuds/CricketScribbles
Summary: When Lucy gets shot, Tim faces the realization that she may bleed out in his arms.





	Close Call

Lucy’s world narrowed to the harsh rasp of her breathing and the burn of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she chased the suspect around a corner, into a narrow alley. The suspect—male, white, six feet tall, two-hundred-seventy pounds of muscle—turned and fired off two gunshots, popping like firecrackers.

Lucy ducked behind a dumpster then returned fire with two shots of her own.

The suspect flinched and kept running. Tim’s footsteps came up behind her and he blew past.

“Keep it moving, Chen!” he barked.

Lucy swore under her breath, holstered her weapon, and hurried after him.

Heat flared in her side. It felt as if an ice pick had been buried between her ribs.

“No, no, no,” she chanted through clenched teeth.

She couldn’t let a stitch in her side slow her down. Tim would never let her hear the end of it.

But it was getting hard to breathe. White hot fire licked up her ribs, viciously searing her lungs.

Tim was getting further and further away. Nothing but a blue-black bruise on the horizon now.

 _I’m falling behind,_ Lucy thought with sinking dread in her stomach.

She wobbled to a stop. Her knees felt like liquid, muscles quivering with fatigue. She doubled over, wheezing, and pressed a hand to her aching side.

Slick warmth smeared beneath her palm.

Lucy pulled her hand away to find blood on her trembling fingers. A neat round bullet hole was torn through her uniform, revealing red, jagged skin.

“Don’t just stand there, boot!” Tim snapped, bouncing on his toes as he gestured at her with impatience to catch up.

Lucy took a step forward.

 _Have to keep going,_ she thought. _Can’t…slow…down._

She stumbled, putting out a hand to steady herself. But she misjudged the distance to the alley’s wall and she missed. Her hand hit only air.

And she was falling…

***

Tim saw the flare of red on Lucy’s hand. Saw the way she weaved on her feet. All thoughts of the suspect flew from his head and he bolted for Lucy.

She crumpled, folding in on herself like a marionette with her strings cut, limp and loose-limbed. Tim reached for her, fingertips barely snagging on her uniform. His boots skidded on the wet pavement, slippery as ice with Lucy's blood, sending him sliding forward the last desperate inch he needed to catch her.

Lucy's body was a dead weight, instincts and self-preservation rendered useless by shock, and the momentum of her fall carried them both to the pavement.

Tim pulled her to his chest as his knees struck the ground with jolts of pain like lightning. He sat with his back against the wall, hauling Lucy onto his lap to keep her out of the stench of garbage and urine. His gaze flicked over her, assessing the damage.

One shot to the ribs. Not good.

“Chen, come on,” Tim said, hoarse and dry. “Talk to me.”

Lucy didn’t respond. She stared upward, her eyes glazed and distant. Her breathing had already grown too shallow, rattling in her chest, labored and thin. Blood stained her teeth wine-red, bubbling on her lips.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed, scrambling for the radio at his belt. “Officer down! Get me an ambulance at the corner of Madison and Fairchild.”

He half-tossed the radio aside, only dimly aware that he hadn’t identified himself, hadn’t followed the proper procedures, hadn’t even put on gloves. But it seemed trivial and inconsequential when all he could think about was making sure Lucy didn't bleed out in the middle of some godforsaken back alley.

“Look at me, Chen,” Tim said, his voice hard, delivering a direct order with no room for disobedience.

Lucy’s fingers opened and closed, fumbling for something to hold onto when life slipped from her grasp. Tim grabbed her hand, blood sliding between their clasped palms.

“Don’t you fucking die on the job, boot,” he growled.

***

Lucy’s gaze slowly tracked up to Tim’s face. His jaw was clenched, shoulders rigid, fingertips pressed bruisingly tight to her ribs. She blinked, sluggish and hazy. Her eyelids felt like lead weights and it was easier to keep them closed. Just for a minute or two…

Tim patted her cheek, short and quick.

“No,” he said. “Don’t do that. Don’t fall asleep on duty, boot. Eyes on me. Open your goddamn eyes, Lucy.”

His hand cupped the back of her neck a little too roughly, supporting her head, attempting to clear her airway from the blood pooling in her throat, gagging her. Lucy dragged her eyes open and caught a glimpse of something she never thought she would see.

Tim Bradford released the faintest exhale of relief and a small smile tipped the corner of his mouth up.

“Good,” he said. 

Lucy managed to laugh, even though it hurt, and her lungs screamed for air.

“That’s the…” she choked. “That’s the first…first time you’ve said that to me.”

“Don’t get used to it."

“Wouldn’t…dream—” Lucy broke off, coughing and sputtering. Blood seeped from her mouth, spilling down her cheek in a streak of mess. Cold rippled up her spine and her heart pounded against her sternum so hard, it felt as if her bones would shatter.

“Can’t…breathe…” she croaked.

“I know,” he said. Soft. Quiet and gentle. It sounded strange on him. Foreign. Like someone else was speaking. “Hold on. Just…hold on, Lucy.”

Then her eyes slid closed and she saw only darkness.

***

Tim stood at the threshold of Lucy’s hospital room, her blood on his shirt, beneath his fingernails, up to his elbows. He sighed and sagged into a chair beside her bed.

There was an unsettling gray pallor to Lucy’s skin that made her look more like she belonged in the morgue, rather than intensive care. The click-buzz-whir of machines nearly drowned out the scratchy rise and fall of her breathing. But it was there. A steady rhythm she didn’t have hours ago in that alley.

Tim closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, bowing his head.

That split moment would forever be burned into his brain. When Lucy took a step forward, fully prepared to carry out his orders despite taking a bullet to the lung.

“Never thought you’d make it this far, Chen,” he whispered. “Always thought your optimism would get in the way. And that..." His voice dropped lower. "That sweet face."

Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale.

The heart monitors beeped away at an even clip. Not too fast, not too slow.

She was sticking it out. Just as stubborn and determined as always.

“I was so sure,” Tim continued, "the world would chew you up and spit you out. Leave you broken in the gutter somewhere.”

He shook his head.

“You’ve proven me wrong many times,” he said. “Prove me wrong again. Pull through this, boot. That’s an order.”

He scrubbed at the back of his head as he sank deeper in the chair. He folded his hands over his stomach, stretched his legs out, and prepared to wait until Lucy came around.

***

A steady stream of visitors had passed through Lucy’s room today. John had stopped by with roses. Jackson had smuggled in a bag of McDonald’s French fries under his jacket. Diaz and Bishop had even popped in for a minute to see how she was doing.

Everyone had been glad to see her sitting up, coherent enough to follow a decent amount of conversation despite the cocktail of pain killers she was on.

Except for Tim. He had been chewing her out for the past hour.

“You blindly turned that corner,” he said, hands on his hips, a frown etched into his face, thunder in his voice. “You didn’t even have your gun drawn. It’s little wonder you caught that bullet. You were an idiot."

Lucy remained silent. She kept her hands clasped in her lap and she stared straight ahead. Even though she wasn’t physically capable of standing at attention, she could assume the position as much as her body allowed it.

“And don’t even get me started,” Tim continued, “on the fact that you barely took cover. You didn’t wait for backup either. It’s a miracle you made it out of that alley alive, boot, for all the stupid mistakes you made.”

Lucy dropped her gaze to the sheets. “Yes, sir.”

Silence descended on the room. There would be hell to pay once she was back on her feet and working again.

Then Tim stepped up to Lucy’s bedside and reached over, fingertips resting feather-light beneath her chin. He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek with his thumb.

Startled, Lucy glanced up. Tim kept his gaze trained on that wayward lock of hair, his thumb drifting down to skim along her bottom lip in a gesture that was nothing like the merciless man she had become familiar with on duty.

“Glad to see you’re doing better, Officer Chen,” he said under his breath. "That was a close call." He paused and his gaze shifted up to meet her eye. "Don't do it again."

Too soft to be an order. 

Before Lucy could respond, Tim turned and walked out.

She swallowed. Her hand came up to the lingering phantom heat of his thumb and the gentle pressure of his touch. 

" _Oh_ ," she whispered as it finally sank in. She eased under the covers, a small smile spreading across her lips as she pressed her hand over that rare display of warmth, as if she could hold it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment or scream at me about Chenford feels on tumblr @cricket-scribbles


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